


sêdasa ukara

by randomtuna13 (belindarimbi13)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M, Self-Indulgent, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-20 01:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20666963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belindarimbi13/pseuds/randomtuna13
Summary: Ten drabbles of Aziraphale and Crowley's journey to their dream wedding.





	sêdasa ukara

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [sêdasa](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20653643) by [randomtuna13 (belindarimbi13)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/belindarimbi13/pseuds/randomtuna13). 

> **Disclaimer & Note:**
> 
>   * Good Omens is a novel by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gailman, adapted into a TV series by BBC and Amazon Prime and directed by Douglas MacKinnon.
> 
>   * The author does not take any material profits by writing this fanfiction.

#####  **1\. **

#####  **"****You're not crying aren't ****yo****u****, wait** **—** **are you ** _ **really** _ ** crying?"**

Crowley went on full panicking mode as he watched the angel that sat across him broke down. Aziraphale did not even answer, saved for the choked noise, which suspiciously sounded like cry.

"Angel," Crowley called quietly. "You scare me—please, please say something."

Aziraphale sobbed louder.

"Are, are you," Crowley looked like he didn't want to speak. "are you going to say, 'no'? I certainly understand if I made a mistake by asking you to marr-"

Aziraphale got up hastily, his tear-stained face glistening under the low light, cutting off the rest of Crowley's frantic monologue. "You stupid demon!"

"OW!" Aziraphale might be dramatic, but he got serious punch. Crowley stroked his arm. "Angel, what has possessed you!"

"I've been meaning to ask you too, today!" Aziraphale yelled. His hand ran wildly upon his pocket, until he pulled out a small red velvet box.

Crowley stared in awe.

#####  **2\. **

#####  **"I'm sorry for all bastards who say I'm going to fail."**

Aziraphale couldn't help the giggle. Crowley looked at him—half in fascination, half in disbelief.

"You're not going to write that," he said.

Aziraphale grinned. "Yeah, you're right. That doesn't sound like me. Maybe I will write these instead: _I'm deeply sorry for disappointing every celestial beings. As you may see, I've succeeded playing my role in the series of the unfortunate events that lead to The Armageddon. And now that you had tried to kill me, I am no longer bound by any heavenly power. However, I would still kindly invite you to my wedding. That is, if you are inclined to attend._" Aziraphale paused thoughtfully for a moment, then added. "_But, if you aren't, it won't hurt me either_."

Crowley chuckled. "This is why I love you."

Aziraphale blinked. Crowley blushed in instant when he realised what he had said. He opened his mouth, trying to annul. "Angel, I mean—"

The angel shut the demon up by kissing the hell out of him. When they finally separated, he whispered amusedly, "We are almost married, I think you don't need to feel embarrassed for saying things like that."

Crowley turned his face that, of course, was flaming red with embarrassment.

"Crowley?"

Crowley turned back. Aziraphale poked his nose.

"I love you too."

#####  **3\. **

#####  **"We can keep secrets, even if one of us must die."**

Newton immediately got swatted with a magazine. Anathema glared at him. "Not funny!"

He grinned unapologetically. "I just want to say that we can be trusted."

Anathema hissed in annoyance. "We were nearly perished a year ago, don't joke about death."

"For hell's sake, can't you two just shut up, you give me a headache." Crowley who was sitting in front of them, rubbing his temple as if he was feeling dizzy.

Aziraphale who was diligently examining each magazine about weddings, commented in cheerful tone. "Supernatural beings can't suffer any human pains, my dear."

"I can, if they are arguing." Crowley looked like he was ready to bury himself, he was excited for the wedding but not for the cluttered planning of reception, selection of cakes, or jacket colours.

Aziraphale glanced at him with a fond smile. "You're being overdramatic, Crowley." Then he turned the magazine he had been studying upside down so that Newton and Anathema could see. "What do you think of this?"

Crowley didn't bother to hide his groan.

#####  **4\. **

#####  **"Do you know who I am?"**

The old man with the moustache who was smoking cigar seized him briefly and then sneered. "Should I? I see a lot of assholes this week, so pardon me if I don't remember who you are."

Aziraphale could sense Crowley tensed with anger. He squeezed his hand once to appease the demon, and he came forward to take over the dealing for their wedding venue. Fortunately, the man seemed to like Aziraphale more—who was speaking in a low voice and polite tone. Crowley kept frowning throughout the meeting. Mr. Dursley chose to ignore him, but he wouldn't hesitate to _'blah!'_ loudly every time Crowley tried to express his opinions.

If only, Aziraphale didn't like the valley _that much_ nor want to run the entire wedding ceremony in every human way, Crowley wouldn't hesitate to make this old man's life miserable

When the deals were officially signed (Mr. Dursley puffed smugly, the thick moustache couldn't hide his self-satisfied smile as he shook hands with Aziraphale, the price Aziraphale was willing to pay was above his expectation), Crowley really couldn't wait to get out from there and to lash out in his Bentley.

Which he did. "Angel, I know you said I shouldn't, but I'm really going to—"

Aziraphale leaned in and kissed the demon. Crowley's anger melted away.

"I'm very proud of you, my dear, for putting up with all that," Aziraphale said sweetly. Crowley just blinked. Being kissed by his angel always gave him that same effect: disorientation. Aziraphale wasn't aware of that, so he continued. "—and don't worry, I'm manipulating the document so that we would only pay the half. He was really disrespectful. A bit of a miracle worth it."

#####  **5\. **

#####  **"For me? Really?"**

The chef muttered something in French then she coughed softly, her face lit up when Aziraphale happily took the extra dessert tester that was served for him.

"Sure, sure, monsieur," she said enthusiastically. "I see your interest in culinary to be extremely—"

"Too much sugar." Crowley cut off, Aziraphale glared at him when the demon scooped whatever was on the plate. He chewed thoughtfully. "I suggest, you don't taste it."

"Crowley!" Aziraphale reprimanded, tugging on his arm. But Crowley went on to clear off the whole plate of the sample. "I haven't even tried that—"

"I can get you another pla—"

"No need," Crowley replied briefly. To his angel, he said in his most honeyed tone. "Come on, angel, let's check other dishes. It is laborious to get here, don't waste our time only on the dessert course."

Aziraphale seemed to see something in Crowley's expression, and he didn't protest when the demon pulled him away from the French chef's table. Before he was out of the sight, the chef winked at him. Aziraphale gave her a broad smile.

#####  **6\. **

#####  **"I will not tolerate anyone who dares to wake me up before sunrise."**

Aziraphale looked up, then pinched Crowley's nose. "You have to, because tomorrow is the big day."

Crowley made a sound like a dying whale, but didn't let go of the angel in his arms. "Angel! Can I tempt you to change your mind, we could modify the plan—"

The angel shook his head firmly. "We have an agreement, my dear."

"But, but," Crowley wracked his brain. "not all humans do it that way, you know. Some humans even walk down the aisle together and the bride and the groom don't have—"

"No, Crowley," Aziraphale refused cheerfully. "I'll stay with Anathema until we see each other again tomorrow. And you're going to stay with Newton."

Crowley whined. "Come on, _Newton_? Ugh."

"Newton has been a great help for us, even if he often argues with Anathema." Aziraphale reminded him.

"But I do not want to not be with you—"

"I will not go anywhere, you know we have an appointment on the altar tomorrow."

"Angel, what if we stay together somewhere? We don't have to be necessarily in the same room and—"

"No, Crowley." Aziraphale kissed the corner of his mouth, proceeding to escape himself from Crowley's octopus-like arms. "Get up, you have to drive me to the bookshop. Anathema will be waiting for me there."

Crowley groaned, burying his face in the pillow.

#####  **7\. **

#####  **"I guess I took the wrong turn, I can't find our wedding venue, can you pick me up?"**

Anathema snatched Aziraphale's phone. "What the hell are you doing?"

"—I thought I remember but—" Crowley stopped abruptly at the interruption. "Anathema? Where's Aziraphale? Why do you have his phone?"

"That's because you shouldn't call him," said Anathema sternly. "I know you won't get lost. Don't call Aziraphale again! Hold yourself for a few hours!"

"Come on, this is ridiculous," Crowley tried to argue. "Really, you won't let me see my future husband?"

"Crowley," Anathema inhaled, and when she began to speak again, her tone was dangerous. "I'll do anything to make sure you will not see him before its time. You said it yourself, you want to do this the traditional way. You can not meet your groom till you walk down the aisle!"

Crowley snorted. "You're no fun."

The line went dead. Anathema stared Aziraphale's phone in blatant disbelief.

"Did he just—"

Aziraphale smiled, admiring Crowley's effort, though the demon might just teleport himself in this room, in a blink of eyes.

#####  **8\. **

#####  **"You're real, right? This is not a dream?"**

Instead of answering, Aziraphale grabbed the demon's face once again. The ring that touched him felt more real than anything.

#####  **9\. **

#####  **"I may agree, but then we are both wrong."**

Crowley beamed, his cheeks blushing beautifully—the colour of warm sunshine, joy, and relief to finally do everything that he wanted. To see the same glittering silver ring on the finger of the angel, who was now in his grasp.

"Crowley, you look very handsome today, and that's a fact." Aziraphale insisted. "Take my compliments."

"I won't say no to that." Crowley grinned. "I'm just going to remind you that you look very charming yourself, angel. But you always look that way to me, so maybe I didn't notice the difference."

"You flatterer, you say that to everyone."

"No, no, just to my angelic husband."

Madame Tracy who happened to overhear their whole conversation, sighing in wonder. Mr. Shadwell who was sitting next to her, pretended to not see anything.

#####  **10\. **

#####  **"Wow."**

Aziraphale made a 'pop' sound out loud. Crowley groaned at the lost feeling and grumbled.

"Why, _ah_, do you stop?"

Aziraphale offered his hand, Crowley took it instinctively.

"I'm glad we get to this point." He looked closely at the demon's dilated yellowish eyes, dilated because of what they were doing now.

Crowley was about to say something as cheesy, but Aziraphale had dived back to resume what he was doing and it seemed the angel was so determined to make Crowley let out the noises that they both had never heard before—the noises that even Crowley himself never knew, could come out of his own mouth.

When Crowley could only squeeze their clasped hands in response, Aziraphale smiled understandingly—knowing that Crowley felt the same thing.

#####  **+1. **

#####  **"I keep hoping that one day you will stay."**

—_with me, _unspeakable_._

But, when Aziraphale laid his hand on Crowley's stomach, it was the cold metal touching his skin that said the things they had never spoken.

"I always hope, you never stop waiting for me to catch up," Aziraphale whispered. In the dark of the room, their hands met, intertwined, sealing the vows that had been promised when they exchanged rings.

He looked up and Crowley looked down.

When their lips met—again, and again, and again—God Herself knows this: no one will be able to separate the two of them again.

**fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> > **sêdasa ukara.**
>> 
>> (javanese) ten sentences.
> 
> Based on the timeline, this story could be the sequel of [(mis)heard](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20406199) and prequel of [do footsie, not footwar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20431040/), but since I'm too lazy to crosscheck the facts and etc, this also can be read independently hehehehe
> 
> <strike>As usual, blame Atsui.</strike>
> 
> Thank you for reading, kudos and reviews will always be appreciated ♥


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